


Winter Roses

by JonStark



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-04
Updated: 2014-09-04
Packaged: 2018-02-16 04:04:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2255205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JonStark/pseuds/JonStark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Modern AU: Margaery’s lips tasted like peaches but they could’ve tasted like anything and Sansa wouldn’t have cared. They were soft and succulent just like the fruit and they sent shocks through Sansa’s body that she could not believe. Nothing ever like this happened with Joffrey. He never made her heart flutter in her chest when he kissed her, or leave her with a sickening, plummeting feeling when he broke off the kiss to change the channel on the television. Instead Margaery broke the kiss off much too prematurely.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Winter Roses

They’d been best friends for as long as Sansa could remember. The Stark’s were a huge corporate bank – the largest in England – and they supported Tyrell Charities which at the foundation had been a sorry case for a company until Winterfell paid an interest to them. Since then Tyrell and Stark were in business meetings/phone calls almost daily, their estates no more than twenty minutes from the other across the lush green English countryside. The children would play together: football and cricket and rounders in the summer or in the stream by the Tyrell gardens on particularly hot days. Sansa loved the stream the most, but she loved Margaery more.

They’d gone through Primary School together, the two girls nervously holding each other’s hands as they entered the playground with their tearful mothers. It was similar again once they started secondary school, although they left their mothers at the doorway of Sansa’s home and did not hold one another’s hand – a fact that did not bother Sansa at the time, but would crave Margaery’s affection constantly now.

Then they grew up. They tried not to drift apart but each girl had different interests. Margaery cared for mathematics and history and science while Sansa preferred English and the arts both performing and technical. Tyrell and Stark remained friends but had others amongst the group: Jeyne, Elinor, Megga, Alla, Alysanne and Alyce, none of whom Sansa enjoyed the company of as much as she did her oldest friend. All but the first were relatives of Margaery, which only made Sansa feel distant.

Sansa and Margaery had one class together: Physical Education. In their final academic year before they would go onto their Sixth Form college, PE was the one lesson that was allowed to be relaxing. Sansa and Margaery were the only ones of their friends that were allowed to continue with PE. Jeyne and Megga were forced into extra English lessons while Elinor and Alla were thrown into Maths interventions. Alyse was pregnant, she could not do PE even if she was allowed.

The Stark girl began to treasure time alone with Margaery: watching her run the treadmills in the gym, bouncing on the trampolines, her bouncing brown hair flowing behind her as she landed perfectly with a little curtsy Sansa would applaud. They would both watch the boys play football or rugby on the field, sat on the benches giggling with one another.

“Look at Mr. Lannister!” Margaery gushed under her breath, checking over her shoulder to ensure that they were not to be overheard. “His shorts are rather tight.”

Sansa giggled. “Joffrey will kill me if he hears me say that.”

Margaery pouted, and to Sansa’s astonishment took the red haired’s hand, stroking it softly with her thumb. Sansa felt her heart stop inside her chest and prayed that Margaery would not sense her delight in being touched so tenderly.

“Sansa, why do you continue with him? You’re so lovely. Joffrey’s well... _Joffrey_.” Though Sansa trusted Margaery with her life, she would not trust her with the truth of Joffrey’s nature. Though it was no secret he was not a kind hearted boy. “You have a bruise on your thigh. Do you want to talk about that?”

“Arya and I were fighting.”

“Arya gave you a bruise beside your crotch.”

Sansa nodded stiffly. “Margaery – please-”

“I won’t say anything Sansa. But just why do you stay with him?”

“We’ve been together forever. It’d be a shame to ruin it now.” The Tyrell girl pouted, linking her arm through Sansa’s and rested her head on her shoulder. “Mr Lannister’s shorts _are_ rather tight, aren’t they?”

Margaery giggled, and Sansa loved the sweet sound of that.

 

It was true, Sansa had been ‘going out’ with Joffrey for what seemed like forever though he had only asked her when she was twelve. Now Sansa was sixteen and she was still stuck with a boyfriend like Joffrey who could humiliate and hurt Sansa as much as he desired and still get away with it. He had gotten worse since his father died upon learning that all the Baratheon fortune would come to him when he turned eighteen. Joff was the eldest in the year – the money would fall to him in exactly sixteen months, Sansa had counted. Then she might finally be free of him. She had endured him four years, she could endure sixteen months.

In truth he was not always terrible to her. It was best when they were alone on a Tuesday night. His mother was out drinking with friends, Myrcella was at swimming and Tommen would take advantage of his mother’s absence and raid the fridge and play on his playstation or Xbox all night. That gave Joffrey and Sansa free use of the house – a pleasure Joffrey took advantage of. On Tuesday night Joffrey seldom took Sansa to his bedroom, but to the movie room: a small room to the back of the house where his father had installed a projector to play films or television on. His mother would never allow Joffrey to watch horror movies and that was all Joff ever wanted to watch on a Tuesday night.

“This one’s The Shining – have you heard of it?” In truth, Sansa had read the book, but as Joffrey did not like Sansa being more intelligent than him, Sansa shook her head. “I didn’t think you would. It’s one of my favourites – come sit down next to me and we’ll watch it.”

Sansa sat close to Joffrey, he put his arm on her waist as she leaned against his firm body. He didn’t like her head rest upon his shoulder, but he enjoyed when they were in close proximity within one another. Sansa enjoyed that too as long as Joffrey was happy and he was quiet.

His phone beeped ten minutes into the film, the message coming clear against the background on his iPhone. He unlocked it, his code _3333_ Sansa noted and let out a sigh.

“It’s my Uncle – he wants to know if Tommen and I want to go to the Formula One race this Saturday.”

“Which Uncle?”

“Tyrion.”

Sansa bit her lip. “Are you going to go?”

“No,” said Joffrey firmly, throwing his phone on the sofa next to them. He had broken three already this year. It was April. “Why would I want to spend any more time with him than I already do? I swear, sometimes I spend more time with my Uncles than I do with you. My Uncle Jaime’s manager of the football _and_ rugby team, Stannis wants to meet with my every week to discuss accounts and help me for when I take over the company and Renly... I see Renly everyday when I want to go out with Loras or Garlan.” Sansa wouldn’t tell Joffrey this, but there was a reason Renly spent a lot of time at the Tyrell’s. “Sometimes I wonder if it’s a curse we all live on the same estate, or a blessing.”

It was a curse to be living near Joffrey, a blessing to be living near Margaery.

An hour or so later, Joffrey received a text from his Uncle Renly when he announced to Sansa: “Renly’s throwing a surprise party for Margaery’s sixteenth this Friday, wants to know if the two of us will come. What should I tell him?”

An excuse to be at Margaery’s home? Granted, Sansa spent many days a week at the Tyrell home, but this time it would be at a party. And it wouldn’t be a regular party either. This was a _Renly Baratheon_ party and he was renowned at University and Sansa’s school for throwing the greatest of parties, able to get alcohol for underage teens as well. Sansa had seen Margaery drunk once before at Joffrey’s sixteenth birthday and she’d made out with three different boys before crashing out on Cersei’s bed for the night. Perhaps if Sansa was in the right place at the right time before Margaery got too drunk to comprehend what she was doing.

“Tell him yes,” Sansa decided.

Joffrey typed in his response, leaving Sansa in a giddy mood throughout the night.

 

 

Arya learned of Margaery’s birthday party through an invite on Facebook. Angered, the older sister ordered Arya to tell Sansa who she had learned the news from. It had been this older guy Gendry that Arya had met a few times to Sansa’s knowledge who hung with her little sister’s clique of fifteen-year-olds. Sansa slammed the lid on her sister’s laptop.

“So can I come?”

“No.”

“What? Why? You’re allowed to go!”

Sansa said nothing. She had not told her parents of Margaery’s party. Sansa knew that she would be allowed to go – she was certain of that – but if Sansa was allowed to the party, then Robb was allowed, and he would take Jon and Theon and then Bran would want to go and get upset when their Mum would break the news he just _couldn’t_ go. Sansa explained all this to Arya, who bit her lip.

“Robb already knows about it,” said the younger sister.

“How?”

“He’s like, best mates with Garlan and Renly.”

Sansa didn’t know if she wanted Theon at the party – or Jon or any of Robb’s mates from University. She didn’t want to be embarrassed in front of Margaery, and Robb just loved to make fun of his little sister – _especially_ when he was drunk.

Robb was back from University, finishing his first year studying business at Nottingham. With him he brought their half-brother Jon, who trained for the army but also their God brother Theon Greyjoy, who trained and studied to be a pain in the arse. Robb was two years Sansa’s senior but had the maturity of a two-year-old. He joined them downstairs, Theon and Jon in tow. Jon mussed up Arya’s hair as he so often did but paid no regard to Sansa as she sat at the breakfast counter, eating her Special K.

“Where’s Mum and Dad?”

“Mum’s dressing Bran for school and Dad’s in the shower,” Arya replied, her mouthful of jam on toast. “Where are you guys going today?”

“We could ask you the same question,” Jon remarked. “Why aren’t you dressed for school?”

“I’m not going! I have double History and Mrs. Fieldhouse told me to never go back to her class again so I won’t. Me and a couple of mates are going to the skate park down in town – will you give me a lift, Theon?”

“Sure,” offered the eldest boy.

“You shouldn’t be skipping school Arya,” Jon remarked, always the sensible one.

How their Mum was able to have the product of her husband’s one night stand living in their house was beyond Sansa, but she was used to the curly-haired boy who lived in Robb’s shadow by now she seldom dwelled on that until he said something to piss her off.

Robb cleared his throat. “Sansa, do you know what’s happening this Friday?”

“Margaery’s birthday.”

“You going?”

“Renly invited me and Joff.”

“That _prick_. Sansa why don’t you break up with him already? He’s a waste of space and I swear to you I saw him at a bar with some tart on his arm. Break up with him before he can hurt you – or _I can hurt him_.”

“Joffrey is truly a little shit,” Jon agreed.

The three boys laughed, Sansa smiling sheepishly as she scraped the last flakes of cereal from her bowl. She might’ve drunk the milk straight from the bowl if she was alone, but pushed it to one side, washing her hands in the basin as the boys attempted to cook themselves breakfast.

 

 

Sansa had PE first lesson, beating Margaery and most of the year Sansa quickly undressed and changed into her PE kit. It was the same colour burgundy that their school uniform was: a cotton polo with a matching skort, the school’s logo embroidered on both. The skort was supposed to be knee-length, but on a tall girl like Sansa it was several inches above the knee. She didn’t have to pull hers up like most of the other girls, nor did she have to buy a smaller size shirt for it to be tight and revealing. Sansa often didn’t find clothes that matched her physique. Not like Margaery who would try on a Size 10 of anything and find that it suited and fit her perfectly.

Margaery entered the changing rooms, chatting pleasantly to one of their classmates before leaving her to change next to Sansa who was tying up the shoes on her converse as Margaery joined her, her brown hair swaying softly from side to side, her brown satchel hanging lazily over her shoulder.

Some girls had shame in changing before others – Sansa included, but she did not change in the toilet cubicles as some were resorted to do so. She changed swiftly and with her back to them all, ensuring she was the first to be changed into her kit and the last into her uniform. Margaery was quite the opposite, pulling her jumper over her head before her satchel had reached the bench, unbuttoning her blouse as she chatted nonchalantly to the other girls, taking extra care to fold her clothes up before she changed at all. For several minutes at a time Margaery Tyrell would be standing in her matching lace underwear, laughing with Sansa and Sansa desperately attempted to hide her affection.

Today she wore a coral blue bra and underwear: a contrasting colour to her eyes but that looked perfect against her milky white skin. She pulled on her polo, then her skirt and looked awkwardly at Sansa, with her hand on her hip.

“Sansa, do you have any knee-high socks? I forgot to shave my legs last night.”

Sansa cast a fleeting look to the girl’s hair-free skin, but dived into her bag to pull out a pair of matching socks for Margaery. She’d do anything for Margaery, the red head decided long ago, but this time it was only giving her a pair of socks before being grabbed by the hand and skipping away to the field.

 

 

There were only two days until Margaery’s birthday, and Sansa was in desperate need of something to wear. At first, she was going to wear her black jeans, her white silk tucked inside until Megga and Alla told her they were all wearing dressed. So it was that sort of party, Sansa kept reminding herself as she struggled to find something to wear for the event that was not happening for another two days. It was hopeless; nothing would ever be good enough for Margaery.

After hours of attempting to compile an outfit (in reality, it was only fifteen minutes) her phone buzzed with a message. Thinking it to be Joffrey, she ignored it – the last distraction she needed was Joffrey. When it buzzed again, Sansa crawled over to her bed, unlocked her phone and read the message.

The first was from Margaery. In Sansa’s phone, she’d put the two pink love hearts on the end of her name: an emoji that wouldn’t be too obvious. Sansa read the message:

_Town tomorrow after school? xx_

Eagerly, Sansa typed back. _Sure_ , then after a hesitant pause, _why? xx_

_Need a blue top. xx_

_The one from Topshop? xx_

_I need to get a new dress anyway. Xx_

_Why???xx_

Sansa thought of a quick lie. _Family dinner Saturday night xx_

_Okay xx_

With Margaery coming with her shopping, she could help her choose a new dress to wear. Sansa smiled at the prospect of having Margaery help choose a dress for her own surprise party, that way she wouldn’t be disappointed.

Checking that Margaery hadn’t started typing a response, Sansa closed the message and went onto reach the next one. It was from Bran and with one hand Sansa opened the message, the other began pulling the scattered clothes from the floor together. She read the message out of the corner of her eye.

_Can I go Margaery’s party too?_

Sansa sighed, gloomily and heavy heartedly. She loved Bran with all her heart – truly she did – but she also loved him well enough to spare him the humiliation of attending a party considering his condition. He’d fallen from the balcony at the Lannister home last summer since then, he’d been confined to a wheelchair and his bedroom was their father’s old study. What had happened made Sansa’s heart ache for a long time, and she so wished he could be a normal boy who could attend parties and not be homeschooled by Mr. Luwin, play football and go fishing with father and Rickon and Bran but alas he could not.

 _You’re too young_ – was her lie.

_Arya’s going!_

_Arya’s two years older than you._

_Only two years!!!!!!_

Bran was thirteen-years-old and he would never be a normal boy. _Sorry :(_

_No you’re not._

Sansa shook her head and placed her phone down again. She wouldn’t argue with her brother – especially not over messages. She’d give anything for Bran to go to the party if it meant he was able to have full use of his legs again, but he’d be a cripple forever and that fact put Sansa in a bad mood the whole night.

But Sansa _was_ excited to go shopping with Margaery.

They had sixth period together: French where Sansa excelled where Margaery lacked. Margaery called for a taxi and they clambered in with their coats and school bags, directing the taxi driver to the Town Centre. Sansa had her debit card; Margaery probably had her father’s or one of her brother’s but Sansa was insistent that she would buy her own dress for Friday night, no matter how much her Mum offered to buy it for her. She wanted to feel as if she had _worked_ for Margaery’s compliments, and not just received them.

Both girls got a drink from one of the coffee shops in town: Sansa got a peach iced tea while Margaery opted for an iced red drink with the taste of berries. Once finished they started in the shops: H&M, Miss Selfridge, New Look and Topshop – where Margaery got her top from and where from Sansa was determined to find a nice dress.

Margaery lead Sansa to the rack of dresses, the two girls gossiping idly as they browsed through the dresses. Margaery held several up against herself in the mirror before deciding against them. Sansa would never be as brash as her friend, wouldn’t dare give an opinion on a dress in case Margaery had the exact opposite. Alas Margaery found one and did not hold it up against herself, but against her friend.

“What about this one?”

“It’s more you,” said Sansa.

The other girl disagreed. “No it’s definitely you – they have your size as well!”

The red head looked uncertain, but the eagerness in Margaery’s eyes was enough for Sansa to take the dress reluctantly from her hands and be steered into the changing rooms which was shared by the two girls.

“Try it one!” Margaery whispered with a smirk.

Sansa stripped from her school uniform and pulled the dress over her head. The dress was beautiful white floral lace one, short and strapless. Sansa would hate to see her Dad’s face when she walked down the stairs wearing that. Then again, he was usually out with some work men or with Mum so it would be unlikely he’d see his almost grown daughter emerge from her bedroom in such a dress. Sansa did feel wonderful in it, and it fitted perfectly. More to like, Margaery loved it.

“You look so beautiful!” She whispered. “Like an angel!”

Flushing slightly, Sansa laughed. “Thank you.”

“Joff will like it,” it was a sarcastic dig – Sansa could hear the tone through Margaery’s gritted teeth. “You should send him a picture.”

“No,” Sansa insisted. “He’ll see it Friday night.”

Margaery frowned. “Friday night?”

 _Shit._ “Yeah! Yeah we’re all going to – uh – his Granddad’s for dinner.”

“Oh. Perhaps you should wear a different dress if you’re going to be eating in front of _The Great Tywin Lannister_ ,” the mockery in Margaery’s voice was more evident now that she mocked Joff’s Grandfather.

“This one’s fine!” Sansa insisted.

“I suppose so, considering the stuff his Mum wears.”

Sansa nodded and turned her back on Margaery to get changed, nonchalantly asking the younger girl to help unzip the back of the dress and stood there in her underwear, Sansa risked a look at the price tag and felt her heart plummet when she saw the dress was £80. Her Dad _would_ be mad if he knew she spent that much on a dress. Still, it would be worth it on Friday night when Margaery would see how Sansa looked especially for her.

 

 

Sansa thought most days in her life were mundane – especially Fridays. Only after three o’clock did her Friday ever become interesting; she could go home, forget about homework, stay up late on the phone with her friends and not worry about oversleeping for school the following morning. This Friday was particularly mundane; the whole school seemed to know about Margaery’s party, Sansa watched and heard the whispers in class and in the corridors as Margaery’s presence reminded them of the party tonight. Sansa wanted Margaery’s night to be perfect; the secret couldn’t be spoiled.

Loras was taking Margaery for dinner – or so he told her he would be only to discover that the intended restaurant was closed down to which they’d retire and go home by which time, the house would be decorated and ready for the party. Sansa and her friends were enlisted to help blow Margaery’s pink and white balloons, to hang banners and decorate the food and drink tables. Sansa had seen how much alcohol Renly and the Tyrell boys had brought combined – and it was a lot more than a hundred people could drink in one night.

People would arrive at eight, so the house had to be done by half past seven – which is was done, so the six other girls and Sansa got dressed and ready in Margaery’s great bedroom and en-suite, blasting music from Megga’s phone while Alyce complained in tears to Alla how she couldn’t properly enjoy the night because she couldn’t drink or get off with any guys. Sansa sat idly to the side, having Jeyne curl her long red hair with curling irons as Sansa applied her eye shadow and remainder of makeup. Determined to look beautiful, she took extra care in everything throughout the night. Sansa had to be perfect. Margaery’s night had to be perfect.

“Hey Sansa!” Megga called. “Is Joffrey bringing any of his football or rugby mates along?”

All the girls in the room doted on Joffrey (all except Sansa) they were immune to his maliciousness and abuse that he inflicted on Sansa. All they saw was a beautiful, athletic, golden haired boy who was with their best friend. Sansa saw him for so much more than that, and she envied their ignorance. If only she could see Joffrey for his facade and not how he truly was.

“Trant, Oakheart, Blount, Kettleback, Swann, Moore and the Hound.”

“Is Alyn coming, Elinor?” Alla gasped.

Elinor smiled sweetly as she combed through her thick hair. “Of course he is, my darling.”

“And Sansa’s brothers will be here! My _God_ the room will be filled with so many hot guys tonight!”

There was a part in Sansa where she wished that she could gush over boys like her friends, but she wasn’t fascinated in them in the way Megga and Alla and the others were. She had been before she discovered the true extent of her feelings for Margaery Tyrell. She had been just like them once upon a time... Before Joffrey and before Bran’s fall and before Arya would go missing from school and Robb left home with Jon and Theon and Robert died and her Dad got stressed and Mum got worried... It made Sansa’s head throb: the changes that had been made to her life the past few years. Sometimes it was too much for her to handle. Perhaps that was why she stayed with Joffrey, she mused as Jeyne wrapped her hair around the curling iron and she covered her lips in lipstick, because she didn’t like the change that breaking up with Joffrey would bring. In truth, Sansa liked the routine of life: school, dinner, school, Tuesday with Joffrey and the rest that her life entailed. Perhaps confessing her feelings for Margaery would only make matters worse. Perhaps they were better left unsaid.

 

 

The party was in full swing when Margaery arrived. Renly received a warning text from Loras that they were just around the corner from their home. Renly had the lights turned out and threatened to kick anybody out of the house who made a sound before Margaery could arrive. Sansa stood on the staircase, clutching Megga in the dark and giggling as they tried to hide their silence.

They stayed in the dark for several minutes just waiting until the sound of a key in the lock was as loud as a gunshot echoing through the distance. Sansa’s breath caught in her throat at the silence sound of Margaery’s laugh, then the click of light as Renly exposed the party guests and shouted the cliché ‘SURPRISE’ as Sansa desperately tried to fake a smile for her friend who wouldn’t have even noticed if Sansa was present amongst the demanding crowd.

So she decided to go for a walk, leaving Megga on the stairs Sansa decided to walk through the Tyrell’s luscious gardens.

Some people hadn’t gone through to the front to welcome Margaery. Two people included her half-brother Jon and his girlfriend with the funny name Ygritte who, when first introduced to the family, had spilled wine down Sansa’s dress and broken Robb’s phone. Their Dad had warned him against the vibrant red haired girl, but Jon would have none of it. They were so in love, Sansa reflected, watching Jon kiss her on the iron bench, lost in each other’s words. Ygritte seemed to be insulting him, calling him dumb and telling him he knew nothing about something. He certainly knew nothing when it came to choosing girlfriends Sansa knew that as much.

She much preferred Robb’s girlfriend Jeyne Westerling who he’d met at University. She was studying animals and had taken Sansa and Arya to the home where she volunteered. Jeyne was beautiful with her long honey hair and big green eyes and dazzling smile. Sansa would have loved a sister like Jeyne, instead she was stuck with Arya who was smoking weed and had her tongue halfway down some skater’s throat by the time Sansa passed them by the oak tree in the Tyrell’s gardens. If Sansa was in the right mind she would have shouted at Arya, instead she moved on, her white heels struggling in the grass, and went to sit on a woven chair underneath the rose bush.

Sansa realised that she had not seen Joffrey all night, but had received strange looks from her friends when he was mentioned. Sansa didn’t care where Joffrey was or who he was with. Sansa wouldn’t fuck him and that pissed him off, and she’d heard him bragging the other week about how good it is to do it with someone. Sansa hoped he had a better time getting that poor girl off than he ever did with her. Joffrey was a receiver, he seldom gave at all.

Pleasantly and enjoying the cold summer air, a white jacket draped across her shoulder, she sipped at the summer wine, half-full in her glass and smacking her lips together, she gazed up at the stars shining so bright. There were billions of burning stars up there, Sansa believed there to be other universes with other people exactly like them on little planets. She hoped they were all happy and no girl was put in the same position as she was with Joffrey. If only there was a way to get out of it without any consequences. Baratheon would surely cut all ties with Winterfell – or Joffrey will try to at least, just to make Sansa suffer. Sansa had been with Joffrey for four years, she continuously reminded herself, she could hold out another few months.

A figure in the shadows approached her. For an instant Sansa was terrified, only to see that the frightening figure was Margaery, clothed in a blue dress she had changed in with a glass of wine the same as Sansa in her left hand. Sansa hoped Margaery wouldn’t hate her for lying to her about the party, though even Margaery must see she had good intentions. Margaery didn’t seem pissed as she perched on the bench beside Sansa.

“Why aren’t you inside enjoying the party?” Margaery wondered.

Sansa shrugged. “I’m not feeling it.”

“Is it Joffrey?”

Shaking her head: “No.”

“Is it me? Is it something I’ve done?”

Sansa wanted a romantic moment with Margaery, to tell her it was all Margaery’s fault because she had made Sansa fall in love with her, but the Stark girl knew better than to expect a miracle, so merely reassured Margaery that she was just being silly, that she was completely fine and everything was OK.

“Really?” Doubted Margaery. “You don’t seem okay.”

“It doesn’t matter truly; I’m just being silly.”

Margaery took her hand as she so often did. Sansa one day hoped they would hold one another’s hand for love, and not just for friendship. “Tell me.”

Sansa laughed lightly. “I don’t love Joffrey.”

“Obviously,” Margaery returned with a smile. “What’s he done now?”

“It isn’t him this time... It’s me. Margaery, I think I’m in love with someone else.”

Excited by the prospect of a new love of Sansa’s life, Margaery was enamoured by the news. “Really? Ooh with who?”

 _You_ , Sansa so desperately wanted to confess. “Just... Someone else.”

“Can I guess?”

Sansa shrugged. “You’ll never guess right.”

“Is it Loras?” That made Sansa laugh. “I was going to say that would only end in heartbreak, honey. He’s otherwise... Well he’s – you know – he’s-”

“-Gay?” Sansa finished.

Margaery nodded slowly. “Gay.”

Did speaking the term ‘gay’ horrify Margaery? Sansa couldn’t believe that a sweet girl like Margaery would be against somebody being a homosexual, let alone her own brother. If Sansa couldn’t tell Margaery the extent of her true feelings towards her, she could give her half the truth.

“I think I am too.”

Frowning: “How do you know?”

“How do you know you’re straight? How does anyone know anything? You just... _know_ these things Margaery like you know the grass is green and the sky is blue, I just know I prefer girls to boys.”

“I’ve always wondered how Loras just _knew_ ,” confessed Margaery with a sad sigh. “I – I kissed Megga last year, I begged her not to say anything. I said I was just practicing and she laughed and carried on and never mentioned it again until I brought it up and she got upset and annoyed that I would dare mention it. Since then I’ve envied my brother’s openness about who he is. I could never do that! I don’t know if I _want_ to do that!”

“Why?”

“It’s bad enough telling your family, let alone the whole world. Sansa do your parents-”

“-No,” Sansa interrupted. “No you’re the only one I’ve told.”

“ _Could_ you tell your parents?”

Sansa could tell her mother – she could definitely tell her mother. Her father... Her father would not be against it, Sansa knew she could rely on her Dad’s support, but she was the golden girl of the family, how could she let them down like this? Then there would be Robb and his teasing, and Theon with his crude jokes. Arya wouldn’t care, she loved Arya for that.

“It was hard enough telling you let alone Mum and Dad.”

“Why me? Why did you tell me first? Why not Jeyne? She’s your best friend.”

“Well why did you kiss Megga? Why didn’t you kiss me? I’m your best friend.”

“Are you jealous?”

It was meant as a playful remark, but the stunned silence Sansa was stuck in seemed to surprise Margaery rather than insult her. Margaery did not remove her hand from Sansa’s as the latter so feared that she would, but could feel her hand grow warmer in it than colder, and Sansa could only hope Margaery wouldn’t think her any different.

“I’ve always been confused,” said Margaery.

“So have I,” agreed Sansa.

Cautiously: “I don’t want to be confused anymore; I want to know.”

“So do I.”

“What would be the difference between you and Joff going out and you and I?”

“Heterosexuality is the norm. People might not like you and I.”

“ _Fuck_ people!” Margaery exclaimed, rising in the air. “I don’t _care_ what people think of me. I want to know who I am! And if that insults people then they can – they can fuck off!”

Laughing giddily, Sansa leapt off the bench too. She stood before Margaery, both girls were still laughing, though Sansa’s was cut short when she felt Margaery’s fingers entwine with hers. Sansa gave Margaery a soft smile as the two girls stood before each other, under the dark night sky and the twinkling stars. It was truly romantic, a moment Sansa had dreamed about for too long and it was finally coming true.

“I’ll break up with Joffrey,” Sansa whispered.

“Later,” Margaery murmured.

Later? What could she mean by later? Later did not expect to come for a long time. Sansa would keep putting off breaking up with Joffrey as she had done so often in the past to avoid any consequences, but now she had Margaery, and ending it with Joff would mean starting it with Margaery – and how Sansa would love to start a relationship with the girl with the big doe eyes which grew larger as they closed in on you until her forehead rested upon Sansa’s and she was completely lost in the other girl’s eyes.

Margaery’s lips tasted like peach but they could’ve tasted like anything and Sansa wouldn’t have cared. They were soft and succulent just like the fruit and they sent shocks through Sansa’s body that she could not believe. Nothing ever like this happened with Joffrey. He never made her heart flutter in her chest when he kissed her, or leave her with a sickening, plummeting feeling when he broke off the kiss to change the channel on the television. Instead Margaery broke the kiss off much too prematurely.

“You look beautiful tonight Sansa.”

“Margaery... Let’s not go anywhere. Let’s stay under these stars forever.”

“Mmm, that sounds much too tempting, but I’m the party girl and my presence _will_ go unnoticed. Come back to the house with me.”

Unwillingly, Sansa took Margaery’s hand and the two girls walked barefoot across the dewy grass of Margaery’s lawn as the first snows of winter began to settle on the ground.


End file.
